


take this pain & turn it into gold

by Nyxierose



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Post-TLJ, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 01:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13136052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxierose/pseuds/Nyxierose
Summary: "All of a sudden everything is too much and he falls."





	take this pain & turn it into gold

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on my tumblr [@electricbluebutterflies](http://electricbluebutterflies.tumblr.com).
> 
> Title from "Champion" by Barns Courtney.

In some ways, he dug his own grave.

Poe learned early that some of his traits were more valuable than others, more likely to get him attention or status or whatever else he wanted. And most of those traits being strengths, he learned to play them forward. As time went on and he grew into himself, he wove a web to hide behind and a mask to keep him safe, but now… now that all feels like a mistake.

He hasn't been vulnerable around another human being in about a decade, maybe even longer, he's not even sure at this point. He's gotten _so good_ at being the positive one, the burst of sunlight and borderline-delusional optimism that keeps everything moving along. Even covered in his own blood, even after being captured and having his mind invaded, he's always been the public face of hope. Some of it's real, some of it isn't - he lost track of how to tell which is which, isn't sure if he even cares or if it matters.

That was before, though. In the last few days, he's lost count of how many of his friends and fellow pilots have gone down. He's even less sure how many are _left_ , but it seems like the entire goddamned Resistance has decided he's their walking motivational poster and it's a _lot_ and it's starting to hurt.

Like, he's not sure what this pain is, but it's in his head and his veins and he's pretty sure there's no way to make it stop. So instead, he lets himself drown.

He still smiles in the presence of any other living thing, and maybe the playful comments take a little more effort to create but it's not like any of _them_ know that. Everyone's lost _someone_ recently, and some much more than that. A general aura of mourning hangs over the new base, so the expectations are a little lower, a little easier to meet. At this level, he figures he can go a while longer without crashing. Couple weeks, maybe. Enough for the rest of them to see that he's probably not their savior anymore.

And then he's in the hangar - he's still learning this place, taking advantage of the current lay-low tactic to familiarize himself with new circumstances and surroundings and protocols - and all of a sudden the mere feeling of his hand against tarnished metal is too damn much, everything is too much, and he falls.

There are words for this feeling, he knows. There are words and there are things smart people do when it hits, but he can't remember any of them and it's the best he can do to sit down on the cold concrete floor and take slow breaths and not break completely. Not enough, but something. Not enough, but-

"What's wrong?"

This is his goddamn luck, he thinks bitterly, glancing up at the unexpected noise. As intruders go, at least this could be worse. Rey is… a lot of things, most of them out of his range of his understanding, but he highly doubts she's come bearing a to-do list so at least she's got that going for her. And what few interactions he's had with her, she seems to have the same light in her that most people assume he's still got, so…

"Ever wonder how you're still alive?" he mutters. That's vague enough not to get him put on a watch, right?

"Yeah. Why?"

Poe motions for the girl to join him on the ground, doesn't expect her to actually join him but is pleasantly surprised when she does. "Half the people I cared about have died in the last month. And I didn't."

"Because you're the best pilot we have," she laughs, clearly not processing the gravity of the situation.

He buries his face in his hands, suddenly afraid he's going to end up crying before she figures out he wants to be alone. "Some of them were better. Some of them had _families_. I just got stuck… too charming for my own good, too easy to position as a leader, too-"

"Shhh. I've seen you fly, and I've heard how the General talks about you. You earned your position."

She's not _wrong_ , and that in turn makes him a little bit angry. "Doesn't give me any right to be the only survivor."

"You're brave. Everyone says you are. Brave and kind in equal measures."

"Damn stupid and prone to getting my squad killed," he corrects.

"Not your fault."

"Yeah. Yeah it is. Not cautious enough. They say that too, if you're actually listening."

He's amazed she's stuck around this long. He can't recall ever being this venomous towards someone who didn't directly have it coming, but beyond that, he doubted Rey's bullshit tolerance was this good. He's seen her in action and quite likes that impression, but she hadn't struck him as someone who can tolerate massive amounts of self-loathing and-

"Maybe I don't care."

"You should. Reputation's everything, especially as small as we are now."

"So?"

"So you're young and feral and don't know better, but that won't protect you when you take the wrong side."

The words come out too fast, before he thinks them through, and he's half worried she's going to hit him or something (he wouldn't blame her), but instead she curls into a ball and starts… shit, she's crying. Well this is a couple levels of unexpected mess.

"I didn't mean harm, okay? I just want you safe. And being by my side when the higher-ups finally notice my body count goes both ways… that's probably not gonna work out so well for you."

Rey barely looks up at him. "At least you're honest," she breathes. "Better than most."

"I try."

"I know. That's why I came out here. Wanted a distraction and thought you might want some help."

"Nothing to help _with_ ," Poe murmurs. "Until we start running missions again, these fighters are as good condition as they're realistically getting. I've just been looking for any quirks I might need to know about."

"Found any?"

"Not yet."

They sit in silence for a while, each lost in their own mind, and it hits him that he didn't expect this from her either. There's strong empathy in their hesitant friendship, like their wildly different roots don't matter, and this too joins them together. Her history of loss is different than his, he's pretty sure, but the pain still burns the same.

All of a sudden, an idea hits him.

"Want to help with something?"

"What's the project?"

"Little early for war memorials, but this place will probably get blown to bits in a month anyways, so… we could do something. Write names on a wall. It's an old tradition. Usually done a little more permanent, but-"

"Why do you need my help?"

"Not need. Want. Not sure if I can do it alone without crashing again, and… you did say you were bored," he points out, a genuine smile almost ghosting across his lips.

"Not exactly bored so much as don't feel like watching Finn try to teach Rose how to shoot," she laughs.

"Our droid there recording it?"

"Probably?"

"Good. There's no way that works out for either of them… she's trained on machines, not close range. Version I heard from her sister, there were _reasons_."

Rey playfully rolls her eyes. "They're in love. Everything's a good idea."

"You learn quick."

"Turns out Finn's enthusiasm about you was nothing compared to his new adventure," Rey laughs. "So, project?"

"I think I saw some paint somewhere. If you're okay spotting…"

\-------

The first memorial of this particular war survives a surprising nine weeks. A replica, with more names added each time but always in the same style, is painted in each subsequent base until the war ends.

The final one goes up three exhausting years later, in the aftermath of a battle that turns out to be the beginning of the end. Its creators have changed since they first claimed this project for themselves. The woman is still adjusting to use of a prosthetic hand, and the man has lost track of times his own name nearly joined the list.

"Do you think the General would approve of the way we did her name?" the woman asks, reaching for her partner's hand with her real one.

"She told me to do it like that," he replies. "Whole list of a legacy she decided to give me, but that was the easy part."

"Want help with the rest of it?"

"Yeah. Just in case I fall again."

She twirls around and kisses him, and it's something like hope.

"I'll catch you."


End file.
